


Different Strokes

by BethAdastra



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Biar is a niche character who just deserves to get some that’s it that’s the plot, F/M, Galo is a Good Boy and we all approve, House Sitting but it goes really really wrong/right, Pre-Canon, Swimming Pool Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/pseuds/BethAdastra
Summary: “She should have dropped it, right then and there. She should have shrugged, or laughed in his face, or lied. Men who asked honest questions were the easiest to hurt.”Biar and Galo enjoy a little pool time. Lots of things get wet.
Relationships: Biar Colossus/Galo Thymos
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Different Strokes

Biar doesn’t like to think she’s a hateful person.

Sure, she’s made unpopular choices. She’s made useless subordinates pack up their things with a day’s notice. She gives honest reviews when people ask for her opinion, even if they’re unflattering. She ruffles a few feathers, but no one is better than her at keeping the cogs of the wheel turning.

She very rarely hates people on sight.

The first time Biar met Galo, though, she had admittedly hated him. It had been at a fundraiser for a fostering program, one of Kray’s early forays into public service, when he first voiced his interest in flirting with the idea of becoming Governor. Galo had been brought in to be little more than eye candy. He was a kid with a tragic past, who had finally grown up “all right,” and was being paraded around as a poster boy for how upstanding and _good looking_ people could be under Kray’s watchful eye. And he practically blossomed under all of the attention. He had been loud, charming, and blissfully unaware of how delicately people usually had to tread at these sorts of events.

Biar had been too busy keeping the event running smoothly to enjoy all the flashing cameras and rippling biceps, but she had known right then and there that Galo would be a problem. He was cheerful, nosy, popular, and well-meaning, but he was a problem nevertheless. And Biar hated problems.

It didn’t help that from then on, Galo stayed on as a PR strategy. And while Galo was constantly trying to be present and helpful, Kray was trying to keep him at arms’ distance. He was a pet that kept jumping on Kray’s desk when he had important work to do. Kray, needless to say, became very good at dismissing Galo.

“Makes his public appearances seem less scripted. News cameras can always tell when someone is being fed lines. And Galo can’t lie to save his life.” Kray claimed once with a shrug and a sigh.

It put Biar in an awkward position every time the front desk called up, and she had to be the one to send him away.

Not that it kept him away long.

It was obvious he admired Kray. Maybe even had a crush on him. It wasn’t like he outright said it, and Biar was smart enough not to ever suggest such a thing, but it always seemed like a shame when he so obviously wound himself up for attention and praise from Kray, and he so obviously deflated every time the man passed him by with barely a glance. That’s probably when she stopped hating him so much, not because he was someone to be pitied, but because she felt like she understood his particular dejection. She had known Kray for years, and was one of the few employees who had been at his side when he started building from the ground up. But that was in the past, not here and now. However she felt about the man back then, how he had felt about her, or why she had stuck around so long, stayed exactly where she needed it to be. In the past.

It didn’t help that over the months, her frosty attitude began to thaw every time she saw Galo. On more than one occasion, he held the door open for her when her own hands were full of papers to sign, or a cellphone was crammed between her cheek and her shoulder. She liked to think it was simply him being raised with good manners, or that he opened the door out of mixed respect, attraction, and fear, like all the other men in her life did. Thinking of it as a horrid game made it easier. Sometimes he even called her “Miss,” and it left a strange but distasteful flavor in her mouth when she considered he probably didn’t even know her real name.

He was so damn respectful, in that sweet, wholesome sort of way that boys next door are raised to be. Ugh. Cue eye roll. In Biar’s experience, those kinds of people turned out one of two ways. Either they married their high school sweetheart, moved to the burbs, and popped out a bunch of hell-raising kids while working in mid-management, or they became some sort of super-jerk metropolitan Icarus, who flew too high and burned out too fast on adoration.

Biar felt like she was bumping elbows with a lot of that second type of person tonight, and felt a bit resigned that it was taking them so long to crash and burn. At least it wasn’t a fundraiser, and she didn’t have to wrangle any rich guests into behaving themselves. Anyone who disrespected her now, she could settle the score personally. It was one of many unwritten rules that Kray’s lackeys had to learn when they wanted to play his game. Biar had written half of the Foresight playbook, so it was her right to throw in a few rules of her own.

Kray’s winter residence, a modest sprawl of terra-cotta and stuccoed walls in his usual trademark blues and whites, was filled with glitzy types here to celebrate his newest initiative, a partnership between Freeze Force and one of the ice tech manufacturers that used Kray’s patented technologies. Biar had resolved to drink enough to forget the name of the company, and she felt no small sense of satisfaction at doing that so early on in the night.

-

By glass number three, she’s able to let loose just a little, even if her own definition of the term is more… modest than other people. She keeps her signature look: hair up, glossed eyes and lips, and a dark and sleek something-or-other that kept the attention from her waist up. She knows what goods she’s packing. She smirks at friends of Krays, scowls at ambitious little ladder-climbers, and constantly brushes off hands that find their way to her shoulder or elbow. She keeps catching herself looking for a missing clipboard or itinerary.

It’s hard to turn the work side of her brain off when Kray has been so particular about not counting this as a working event.

_“I’d rather you relax. Enjoy yourself a little tonight. There’s a major project proposal I need you to sit in on tomorrow, and I want you at your sharpest. It might be our biggest venture yet.”_

_She said something or other about the best knives being constantly honed. And Kray had smiled, leaving it at that._

“Were you in charge of this too, Colossus? I’m still in raptures at the dinner you put together last week!”

Biar turns, and raises a brow. A young woman, at least a decade younger than her, is swirling a drink, and swaying happily as she watches the crowd mingle. She inches closer, and Biar vaguely recalls that she’s with one of the tech executives. Important enough to get an invite, but not important enough for Biar to remember her name. Her pretty brown hair shimmers and bounces, and Biar sighs. She had once been a mousy-blonde herself.

“No… I’m off the clock tonight. But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“You make it look so easy…” the woman drawls. 

“I know.” 

The woman gapes, but she doesn’t offer any further explanation. Biar doesn’t waste her time on false humility or playful small talk. And she’s sure most people would take offense to that. It isn’t arrogance or pride that speaks. No. It’s over a decade of doing this, nearly twenty years of sheer experience, that makes her like this. If they can’t see that, that’s their own problem. 

She has to know exactly how to move, where to go, what to say, what to think. The clothes have to look like they’re tailored for her. When someone shakes Kray’s hand, she already has their resume memorized. The reports have to go on and off her desk the same way a leaf floats down a river, rather than scrutinized and labored over for hours on end. Whenever there’s bad press, she already has a statement in hand. Her budgets are flawless, and invites to Foresight Pharmaceutical events are coveted. Celebrities, executives, and world leaders scramble to get in the door, all thanks to her. The food has to leap off of the serving trays and into the patrons’ hands. She crosses her T’s and dots her I’s, and saves the forms in triplicate. 

It’s a Sisyphean task. 

_At least my tits are still perky…_ she muses as the poor creature totters back towards her boss… or her father… or maybe both. Biar watches over the rim of her glass as a man in a perfectly-cut button-down grabs the girl’s hand, and begins showing off a gleaming rock on her finger. Biar silently edits the descriptor of father to fiancé. Now _there’s_ a career death sentence if she ever saw one. 

She’s seen it plenty of times in her time; hungry secretaries and second-string women looking for some form of security. Some ended up with a life-sucking promotion. Most ended up with a ring on their finger and a lifetime of unhappiness.

Better to make things look easy than to be easy. 

She finishes this glass in record time, and begins the hunt for a nicely chilled riesling. 

And then she sees Galo. Performing for Kray, as usual.

Kray had mentioned something about Galo wanting to join Freeze Force. It made sense. He was young, loud, and not half bad with anything using a trigger. He also cut a mighty fine figure, and could easily slip into one of those godawful uniforms without looking too terrible.

Kray had also said he’d sooner see hell freeze over before he let someone like Galo work for Freeze Force.

She watches as Kray breathes in through his nose. It’s a subtle thing, like an eyebrow twitch, or a clenching of the jaw. Most people would miss it. Biar doesn’t. He rests his hands on his hips, but Galo continues talking, the small smile and waving of his hands fading as uncertainty settles in. It was painful to see, even from across the terrace, with an Olympic-sized pool between her and the spectacle. 

Galo so badly wanted to join Freeze Force, and Biar couldn’t really blame him. They got all the cool tech. All the funding. Sweet benefit packages, and easy work. They also had a mean streak a mile wide.

They’d eat a guy like Galo as a mid-afternoon snack.

Kray was trying to do him a favor.

Soon enough, her glass is empty again, but both Kray and Galo are still exchanging words, and she’s too intrigued to leave the scene. She slowly works her way around the edge of the pool, past a group of engineers and execs more interested in gawking at her, and reaches Kray just as Galo grabs a highball, and empties it before stalking away.

Kray notices her arrival, and nods as he fusses with his left glove. It’s always the left glove.

“Did you have fun?”

“I suppose.” She shrugs and sets her empty glass down. Kray is very obviously preparing to take his leave. She knows this routine. “Will you be needing anything?”

“No, I’ll be going. Feel free to stay overnight. Just make sure the cleaners are here in the morning.”

“Of course.”

And as easy as that, the night is over, and the dust begins to settle.

She’s one of a small handful of colleagues he’d ever dare leave in charge of his personal property. He knows he can trust her not to let anyone overstay their welcome, or throw up on the new cream carpets. Not that she needs to do much; when Kray leaves, most others do the same. Tonight is no exception. She pours another trusty glass of riesling, and is pleased to see everyone file out in a reasonable amount of time.

She slightly mourns not seeing Galo leave with the crowd. Whatever Kray said must have really done a number on him, and he must have slunk away quick.

Ah, the joys of youthful emotion.

When her glass is empty, she finds the master switch, and dims the exterior lights. A couple stragglers take their leave, and she sets the doors to lock. Going up the stairs to the master suite is a slow process. She’d sound like less of a horse if she took the heels off; there’s no one left to impress with her trim and toned calves. One strappy heel is peeled off at the top of the stairs, then then other outside the bedroom door. She wiggles her freed toes, and closes the bedroom door behind her.

She climbs onto the bed, without bothering to clean her face or set her phone on a charger. Her dress is a bit itchy, but when she drags a plush throw over her legs, she forgets, and passes out quickly enough.

-

When Biar wakes, it’s still dark, and her arms and hips itch like something is burning. The damn sequins on her dress have scratched her skin to hell, and she feels too hot.

She doesn’t do sequins. She knows this. They don’t match with the daily look. But they’re fun. And now the magic has worn off. The fairytale princess has receded, and all that’s left is a cranky, middle-aged corporate cunt in an outfit meant for someone half her age.

She stretches, slow and languid like a cat. A glance at her phone says it’s just past three in the morning. She looks out a window, and sees that all the cars are gone. Good. Even if it’s only for a few hours, she enjoys these quiet, transliminal spaces, where the hustle and bustle of the upper echelons has disappeared, and she can wander through without being followed by curious eyes or being drawn into laborious small talk.

Biar pads down the stairs, back to the main room, and out to the terrace, where the only lighting is the moon and the pool.

Her dress begins to itch again, and she tugs the whole thing off as if it were nothing more than a sweater. Left in nothing but a bra and underwear, she assesses the pool. She’d rather deal with this alone, without hungover partygoers ogling. She can almost hear the tinkle and clank of glassware, all ghosts now, while she undoes her hair.

The water is as still as the night air. No splashes, no ripples. It’s calm, and silent, and the depths are never-ending. Biar imagines that no-name secretary-turned-corporate-wife braying with laughter.

She dives in.

She laps, back and forth, definitely enough to do a 200 a few times over. She thinks she can hear the echo of men laughing at their own jokes, so she breaks her own pace. Her arms pulse forward, and her whole body surges to the finish line.

She surfaces from the pool, and is greeted with a pair of long legs, and the bright but worried eyes of Galo Thymos.

“Oh.”

She hopes she sounds bored. She knows she’s out of breath. She also knows she’s practically naked. Her underwear isn’t exactly a modest cut.

“Are you okay? I heard water splashing, thought maybe someone had fallen in.” He’s crouching down, knees wide, and she can hear that his voice is still raspy with sleep.

“Everything is fine down here. No need to be a big hero.”

He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but snaps it shut.

“What are you still doing here?” She swims up, and rests her arms on the edge of the pool. The concrete is rough on her arms. “Thought you’d have a kegger or something loud to go to on a Saturday night.”

“What?”

The cluelessness is kind of cute. She smirks. “These parties aren’t exactly your thing. You hardly ever come if Kray’s not there. And you always leave soon after he does.” 

“Uh… I had to sleep off my drinks. I rode my bike here.” She could almost swear there’s a hint of color on his face. “Can’t exactly afford a ride home, and I couldn’t leave her behind. It’d be… irresponsible. I wasn’t in a good mood after seeing Kray, and I didn’t want to drive being like that.”

Something deep inside Biar warms at him getting so bashful over something as unsexy as DUI’s. Compared to the people here earlier, who would’ve loved to brag about zipping down the highways drunk on a new pair of wheels, he’s wholesome as country wheat. She rewards him with a smile.

“No need to get too defensive. It’s not like I’m going to tell Kray.”

He makes a funny sort of face, and sits on his behind. He’s toeing off his shoes, and rolling up his pants leg before he says anything. She’d like to think he’s pouting, but something in her gut says he’s actually capable of having a thought deeper than the pool she’s swimming in.

“Am I that obvious?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s my job to notice things like that.” She uses both hands to slick back her hair, and to Galo’s credit, his eyes don’t wander down. The words _Good_ and _Boy_ curl up in her belly.

But she continues to play nice. “If it makes you feel any better, though, I’m good at noticing those little things. Better than most people. I don’t think anyone else really notices. You don’t have to worry about me going off and telling anyone every time you have a little crush.”

Galo’s feet splash into the water, and he leans back on his hands, groaning at the night sky.

She feels kind of bad.

But it’s his own fault he’s so easy to tease.

He makes a joke about one of Kray’s uglier friends drinking too much, and almost spilling a glass of red wine all over Kray, and the two of them laugh. They go on, mocking the well-to-do guests of the night, and finally, Biar doesn’t feel like she has to get wasted to feel young. A droll comment about seeing too many stray bra straps from her draws a laugh out of Galo, and then, before she fully knows what is happening, Galo sends her an exaggerated wink, and untucks his shirt.

“You can’t be the only one out here embarrassing yourself by swimming in your unmentionables!”

Biar would have made a joke about him knowing such long words, but watching him undo the top buttons on his shirt is too distracting. He fusses with the first button, and soon enough, is baring chest and collarbone and belly. But there’s no thrill or shocker there. Galo’s T-shirts never left anything to the imagination. Biar stays silent. Best not to look a gift horse in the six-pack. The pants are shucked and folded very gingerly. Biar is only half disappointed that she can’t make out any interesting details between the night lighting and his black boxers.

He slips in, smooth as a seal, and smiles wide before taking in a loud and deep breath, and dipping below the surface.

He’s halfway across the pool before Biar can even get started. Of course he is. He’s built just like a goddamn Olympian swimmer, it goes without saying he’d take to it so well.

When his head pops back up, his hair is plastered down to one side, and even when he shakes his head, it clings the same way vines do to a wall. He looks obscenely good.

She catches up, and he wagers a short race.

In the hopes that she can beat him, Biar agrees. There may be a chance for her to enjoy the potential for his boxers to slip off in the water.

They surprise each other with how fast they can swim.

Biar loses, but only barely. She knows she gave Galo a run for his money, but after a night of drinking, she isn’t exactly in top form. And she doesn’t really care.

Galo pretends to be a sore winner, striking some goofy poses in the water, and shouting and splashing. He flops back into the water, treading as he stares up at the sky and catches his breath. It’s a secret relief to Biar that by looking up and floating, he can’t see that she’s wheezing pretty hard too. She doesn’t exactly have her high school stamina anymore.

Soon enough though, curious eyes are on her again.

“Have you always been such a good swimmer?”

She laughs. “I went to college on a sports scholarship. I should say so.”

“Wow!” He flops back into an upright position, and doggy paddles over to her, and rests his head and arms on the lip of the pool. “You’re just full of surprises.”

There’s something about the way he says that. With anyone else, she’d be able to hear some sort of innuendo, a nod and a wink, and some sort of patronizing smirk. Galo is genuinely impressed.

She goes fishing, just for the hell of it. “I was also top of my class. Private school _and_ college.”

“No way…” he drawls, brushing a stray lock away from his eyes.

“Yes way.” She smiles.

“No! Really?!”

“Really really.”

“I bet most of the people at this party didn’t know that about you.”

She half-shrugs, and paddles over to rest on the edge of the pool next to him. “It’s okay. They’re not worth getting to know usually.”

“That’s a shame.”

“That’s _work_.”

Galo’s face is close to hers. She’s not sure how they got so close, but he looks sad as he considers her words. She’s not sure why she feels bristly, but she splashes some water at him, and huffs.

“Listen. As long as they _feel_ like I’m fitting in well, they don’t care. A little acting can go a long way in this line of work.”

“I wish that could have been me with Freeze Force.”

He starts looking pensive again. Uh oh. He pulls himself out of the pool, and Biar sends prayers and curses above that he looks so damn good. He has dimples on his lower back, just above the waistband of his boxers. Fucking _dimples_. 

He twists, and they’re back to Biar treading water, and Galo soaking his feet. She can tell he’s starting to drift away.

“You wouldn’t have been a good fit anyways.”

And then those damn blue eyes are on her again, searching, shining, and searing.

“Where would I be a good fit then?”

She should have dropped it, right then and there. She should have shrugged, or laughed in his face, or lied. Men who asked honest questions were the easiest to hurt.

But she doesn’t. She can’t. A hand is sliding over hers, and it jolts her to realize that he’s asking the question again, quieter, closer, warmer, desperation bringing his mouth to her ear. Biar brushes a hand over a stray lock of his hair, and she gives him an imperious look while pushing herself up and out of the pool, water cascading all over his thighs.

“Take me upstairs and I can show you.”

Galo laughs. It’s nervous, breathless, and rough with old alcohol.

“But, Kray…”

“Only stays here in the winter. Or if he has a diplomat in town that needs impressing. Neither of those apply right now.” She punctuates the words with a press of her cheek to his own, and a nip to his ear. A hand is tangled in her hair, then cupping her jaw, and pulling her close.

They both fall into the pool, and it’s a mess of hot breath, spit, and pool water.

It takes a few minutes for them to make it back out of the water. Biar’s too busy testing the fit of his tongue in her mouth, and enjoying the grind of their hips. An obscene amount of pool water is trailed over the terrace and into the main room. Somehow, they make it upstairs, their clothes forgotten back by the pool.

Warm breath on wet skin is surprisingly distracting though, and Biar blushes when Galo runs a hand over her, and begins kissing at the gooseflesh between her collarbones and breasts.

His teeth feel rough as they scrape over bare skin and the thin ribbon of lace.

She’s shocked he hasn’t simply tugged the damn thing off.

Well. If he won’t, she’ll certainly take the initiative.

She steps back, and slips off her bra, looking at him with intent. He doesn’t look away. There are no timid side glances or turning herself away from his gaze as she does the same with her panties. It’s surprising how good it feels to be looked at like that. 

“Whoa. You’re so…”

She cocks an eyebrow. “So what?”

“Pretty.” He says it, breathless, as if it were the highest compliment a man could give a woman. And Biar laughs. It isn’t a cruel or patronizing laugh, she’s just delighted at how simple and uncomplicated Galo is making this. She pushes him to the bed, and he falls back, and struggles to peel his boxers off. 

“I’m not good with words…” he mumbles as his ears take on a lovely shade of red, “But I swear I’m good at a lot of other things.”

Biar plants a knee on the bed, and gasps when Galo’s cock bounces out, brushing against her belly before laying low and heavy. The boxers are flung somewhere across the room, and she dives to him, tangling them both into the linen and down and cotton of the bed.

His hands are gentle, and the words “Touch me” slip out of her mouth. And he does. Oh, he does. Those hands are everywhere, scraping and squeezing. His hands are gigantic. Biar’s still a handful. But at least it doesn’t feel like a hindrance, for once.

He keeps whispering “Please…” and it’s a warm sort of shock for Biar to realize he’s been waiting for permission. Waiting. His self control is admirable, and _oh god_ but it has nothing on how large his hands are when they slide up her waist, over her ribs, and cup her breasts.

She jumps at the touch. That’s a bit of a surprise. She knows her tits are nice. She knows partners usually give them plenty of attention. She knows she _likes_ the attention. 

What she didn’t know was that Galo Thymos touching them would have such an immediate effect. A light pinch makes her arch into his hand. A few experimental squeezes make her sigh. The press of his nose and lips right into her cleavage makes her eyes pop open, and she groans as she watches him latch onto a nipple, and ravish the chilled skin with his tongue.

Her nails scrape through his hair, and she could almost swear she hears her name being moaned into her skin. She grips tight, imagining if this is how it feels to hold the handlebars of Galo’s motorcycle. She can see the appeal.

He sucks harder, and she hisses. She can feel teeth worrying at the skin, and the hands on her are keeping her from bucking or rolling or writhing away. She only makes a sound when he pulls back, and returns to lick a long stripe to soothe the skin. It only makes Biar louder, and move more insistently against him. Galo switches, pressing his mouth to her other breast, and circling the other, still slick with spit, with his thumb and forefinger. She can only imagine how good that hand would be if it was working between her legs.

A girlish sound escapes her, and her hips grind uselessly against his torso. She feels a wetness there, and gasps. Galo notices.

A hand wanders over his stomach. Biar sucks in a breath as she watches Galo wipe some of it up, and brings it to his mouth.

“What a mess,” he says, soft and reedy.

“Fuck!” she snarls. He sucks on his finger as if it were honey-coated. His mouth curls at the corners, and Biar silently decides that this is her favorite type of smile from him. He has no right to look that sly.

Not to be outdone, Biar leans in, and says “Let me return the favor…” before palming at Galo’s own sex. He whines, and presses into her hand. “No time, I need you now.”

Biar nods. Another time perhaps. Maybe as a lunch break quickie. That particular fantasy pulls a shiver from her. She’d like to think she could accomplish some absolutely nasty things with Galo. Push him around a little. See how hard he can push back.

She leans over to the nightstand, and is pleased to see the drawer’s contents haven’t been plundered. She knows how some people can be at these parties when they think they have a moment of privacy. Finally, for once, she’s the one having a scandalous little rendezvous. 

The foil opens with a happy little snick, and she rolls the rubber onto him.

His nostrils flare, and she can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek as she slips the condom on, going deliberately and cruelly and wonderfully slow about it. He somehow manages not to buck up to her hand. Such a good boy.

Her hands slide lower, and thin fingers press against the base of his hard cock. She smiles at the strangled sound he makes at that, and pulls away. She crawls over, and lies back into the bed, settling herself in, and smirking as she hears more than sees him struggle to untangle his fists from the sheets. He’s prowling over, soon enough, and she hooks a leg over his hip, and slides a hand down to start guiding him in. Galo tries not to whimper, but when he looks down, a hurt sort of sound catches in his throat. He presses into her hand.

“Do you like it?” His eyes are dark, wine dark. “Do you want it?”

She wants to giggle. Oh, he’s definitely a good boy. He makes it sound like there’s an actual possibility she might say no. How could anyone say no to _that?_ “Yes, Galo, yes. Fuck me, now.”

Even as she says it, her legs are rising to wrap around his hips, and somehow Galo manages to squeeze one of his own hands between his erection and her sex. She yelps when one finger slides in, foreign and hard and long. It’s nearly embarrassing that she’s still slick as sin for him. 

It’s startling to think he hasn’t mentioned a single thing about her age up to this point.

Most men do.

His one finger becomes two, and she’s gasping, pulling at the sheets while he tests the waters. She’d love to be fucked raw right about now, but she’d also like to not have to deal with any potential embarrassed lines of pain or discomfort. If she were capable of thinking or speaking, she might have thanked him.

He’s considerate, even when he so obviously wants to fuck.

Knuckles are replaced with the press of his cock, and she bites her lip. He grazes the edge of her entrance, but hesitates, as if unsure of who has control. She hisses, and bucks her hips up to him. No amount of fingers or slick prepare her for the stretch.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he steadies himself. His focus cumulates in deep, languid strokes, and when he bottoms out, Biar gasps, and tightens her legs around him. The self control slowly begins to unravel, though, and before long, Galo is rutting into her, hard and fast, and Biar is keening at the sensation. 

He’s huge.

So deliciously, stupidly, perfectly huge.

The last time someone had had this sort of effect on her… well… it didn’t matter now. It was in the past. It had been one time. Galo was so much sweeter, and slower, and had enough of a stamina that Biar was honestly curious to see if she would come more than once with him.

With every snap of his hips, she slid further into the haze. It was so foreign, but thrilling, to not have to think about agendas or hear the echo of polite conversation.

She needed more.

Galo is so effectively fucking her into oblivion, she pulls him down for an undignified kiss, and moans into his mouth as his rhythm stutters. One of his hands slide under her rump, and he murmurs “Beautiful” before renewing his onslaught. This time, he isn’t nearly as sweet about it.

She almost screams. Almost.

Instead, Biar tilts her head, and is greeted with the sight of the two of them, wrecking the bed, reflected in a gigantic and perfectly framed mirror, leaning on the wall across the room. It’s a stark scene, where cream and whiskey turn their shadows into a delicious knot of blue and gold. One of her legs is slung over his shoulder, and Biar can see the curve of his back, waist, and ass. Galo’s thighs are tight with effort, and she can see all the divots where his own flesh is pressing into hers. He’s so big.

She doesn’t quite recognize her own face, and she doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

Biar clenches her eyes shut. Galo’s found a new angle, the palm of his weight-bearing hand tucked under her left arm, and his rutting is building a new pressure in her belly. She mewls, and it only makes Galo go faster. She feels herself tightening, coiling up, ready for a quick and violent release.

Her hand slides down, touching herself, and Galo whispers sweet little encouragements and affirmations, enough that they make her laugh in that delicious bared-throat and eyes-shut way, and she comes. Hard.

He bites his lip, but it’s not enough to hold back the cry he lets out as he spills into her.

She lets him slow down. Stroke her more. Nip at her ears. She bites back, and tastes the salt of pool water and sweat and sex.

When Galo pulls out, she feels him hold down a shudder, and she only barely catches him licking his lips before he turns away. Cute.

“Maybe I should catch you when you’re in a mood more often…” she chuckles. It’s delightful to see some color pop up on his cheeks while he struggles with removing the condom, and hunching to hide it, like some sort of green teenager. She doesn’t bother to cover herself up while he tosses the evidence in the bathroom trash, and is deeply pleased to see that when he returns, his cock twitches a bit. There’s even a little fire in his eyes as he crawls back into bed. He kisses her, open-mouthed, and it feels good to know that his interest isn’t at all diminished. They move slow this time, embracing more than fondling, and speaking quietly, as if there could be any possibility of someone being within a kilometer of hearing them.

“Sorry about being so moody… earlier.”

The damn job again. 

It was really none of her business. She really shouldn’t have any opinion on this. And yet, again, she’s opening her mouth, and saying things.

“You should try firefighting.”

Galo lifts himself up, but she holds up a hand. He has the good sense to stay silent.

“And I’m not talking about the specialized military Freeze Force nonsense. Firefighting is simple, honest work. You’re helping people. Not hunting them down.”

Galo is staring. She sighs.

“People fear Freeze Force. People respect firefighters.”

It’s pleasant to see that he looks like he’s seriously thinking about it. She really, really, really would hate to see him wearing one of those terrible orange helmets and kicking down civilian doors. He’s not that kind of guy. 

“Besides…” she trails a nail down his stomach, maybe a little rougher than necessary, and is rewarded with a moan. “You’d look good in red.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wow you made it to the end! Welcome to the tiny island of BiarGalo, where, like, a handful of us like to play between all the other delicious Promare pairings. Thanks to all the enablers who gobbled up the crumbs I sent and encouraged me to share this!


End file.
